Europäische Union

Der Rat hat neun weitere Personen, die für das Massaker von Butscha verantwortlich sind, wegen ihrer Handlungen, die die territoriale Unversehrtheit, Souveränität und Unabhängigkeit der Ukraine untergraben und bedrohen, in die Sanktionsliste aufgenommen.

Der Rat hat Schlussfolgerungen zur Stärkung der Fähigkeit der EU zur Abwehr hybrider Bedrohungen gebilligt und einen koordinierten und strategischen Ansatz der EU gefordert.

Main agenda items, approximate timing, public sessions and press opportunities.

Der Rat hat einen Beschluss angenommen, mit dem afrikanische Länder dabei unterstützt werden sollen, ihre Kapazitäten für Antiminenprogramme zu stärken. Dies trägt zum Ziel eines minenfreien Afrikas bei.

Der Rat hat die Listungen der Verantwortlichen für Handlungen, die die territoriale Unversehrtheit, Souveränität und Unabhängigkeit der Ukraine untergraben oder bedrohen, um weitere sechs Monate, d. h. bis zum 15. September 2026, verlängert.

Main agenda items, approximate timing, public sessions and press opportunities.

Weekly schedule of President António Costa, 16-22 March 2026.

The Russo-Ukrainian war, which began in February 2014, shows no signs of ending. Credit: UNOCHA/Dmytro Filipskyy

By Nickolay Kapitonenko
KYIV, Ukraine, Mar 19 2026 (IPS)

It is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the tension, violence and uncertainty in the world in recent years. The number of wars is growing, more and more money is being spent on weapons, and the rhetoric of major powers is becoming increasingly decisive.

The latest escalation in the Middle East has reignited the debate about the start of World War III. The consequences of the Israeli and US strikes on Iran are being felt to varying degrees far beyond the region, at least by those who follow oil prices.

The interests of numerous great powers are at stake, and third parties are considering their next moves and making political statements. Opinions range widely, from the belief that there can be no Third World War because of the existence of nuclear weapons, to the conviction that it has already begun. So, what is really going on?

A journalistic and academic concept

When historians talk about world wars, they mean two unique events in the past. Their scale, the involvement of a wide range of states, the level of violence and the nature of the consequences put them in a league of their own.

To understand how these wars differed from any others, one need only glance at the diagram of human casualties, defence spending, or destruction in various armed conflicts of the 20th century.

However, historians also have different opinions. One of them, better known in his political capacity, Winston Churchill, once described the Seven Years’ War as a world war. This protracted 18th-century conflict drew most of the major powers of the time into direct combat; it spanned numerous battlefields in Europe, North America, the Atlantic and the Indian Ocean; and it had serious geopolitical consequences. How was this not a world war?

By the fact that it was not a total war between industrialised states, the scale of the clashes was rather limited, as were the number of armies; and the consequences, although serious, were not systemic — this may be the response of more conservative historians than the British Prime Minister.

The number of armed conflicts in the world has been growing over the past few years: 2024 has been a record year since World War II.

‘World War’ is both a journalistic and academic concept. To enhance the effect, attract attention or draw conditional analogies, it can be used to describe more events than just the First and Second World Wars. For example, the Thirty Years’ War of the 17th century, the Napoleonic Wars of the 19th century or even the Cold War are sometimes referred to as world wars.

Within this logic, individual elements of a world war can be seen even today. The number of armed conflicts in the world has been growing over the past few years: 2024 has been a record year since World War II. According to some estimates, 61 armed conflicts in 36 countries were recorded this year, which is significantly higher than the average for the previous three decades.

Global military spending is also on the rise: today it has reached 2.5 per cent of the global economy, the highest figure since 2011 and an upward trend since 2021. This is still significantly less than during the Cold War, when a range of 3 to 6 per cent was the norm. Analysing these figures, it is clear that global security has deteriorated in recent years, but how critically?

A more academic approach would be to define a world war as one in which most of the major powers are involved; which has global reach and is total in nature; leads to enormous loss and destruction; and significantly changes the world upon its conclusion. Direct and large-scale armed conflict between major powers is a mandatory criterion.

And this is the main argument against the idea that World War III has already begun. No matter how high the level of destabilisation in the modern world, no matter how far large-scale regional conflicts have escalated, and no matter how much money states spend on armaments, this is not enough for a world war. Large-scale military operations involving major powers are needed.

All just fears?

This has not happened in the world for a long time. The interval between the Second and Third World Wars turned out to be much longer than between the First and Second. Nuclear weapons played a central role in this, raising the price of war so high that major powers began to avoid it by any means possible. This safeguard has been in place for over 80 years and looks set to continue.

Peace, or rather the absence of war between major powers, remains one of the central elements of the current international order. International institutions and regimes may collapse or weaken, regional wars may break out, but the likelihood of war between major powers remains extremely low.

Proponents of the Third World War theory sometimes point out that even in the absence of full-scale war between major powers, other manifestations occur: hybrid wars, cyberattacks, or proxy wars. This is true, but all these outbreaks of conflict are several levels below a world war in terms of their destructive potential and are not total in nature.

Throughout history, states have fought through proxies or resorted to information, trade or religious wars, but we do not consider these wars to be world wars — except in a symbolic sense.

A systemic war does not necessarily have to be a world war

Unlike the 2003 war in Iraq, the strikes on Iran are taking place in a world where, instead of US hegemony, there is complex competition between at least two centres of power. This adds nuances and forces other states to respond, directly or indirectly, for example, by supplying weapons or intelligence data, supporting one side or the other.

But this does not make the war global. Arms supplies, for example, are a common practice found in most regional conflicts, as is diplomatic or financial support from allies or partners. Even if American troops use the technology or expertise of partners – such as Ukrainian drones – this does not mean that Ukraine is being drawn into the war. Just as American arms supplies to Ukraine during the Russian-Ukrainian war did not mean US involvement in the war.

For a world war, the key ingredient is still missing: direct confrontation between major powers. In addition to world wars, there are also systemic wars. In these conflicts, it is not so much the scale that is important as the change in the international order to which they lead.

The Thirty Years’ War, the Napoleonic Wars, and the First and Second World Wars mentioned above were systemic wars: after their completion, the rules of international politics were rewritten and new ones were adopted at peace conferences and congresses. A systemic war does not necessarily have to be a world war.

Moments of hegemonic crisis and the beginning of the struggle for hegemony always carry with them the danger of new wars, arms races and escalations.

The current destabilisation and growth of various risks are largely linked to the struggle for the future of the international order. The United States and China have almost fallen into the ‘Thucydides trap’ — a strategic logic similar to that which led to the Peloponnesian War in the 5th century BC. At that time, the narrowing of the power gap between the hegemon and the challenger forced the Spartans to start a preventive war.

Today, there are well-founded fears that the decline of American hegemony, the rise of China and the approach of a bipolar world will sharply increase the likelihood of direct armed conflict between the superpowers.

The decisive, to put it mildly, steps taken by the US administration can also be considered preventive actions aimed at strategically weakening China’s position while Washington still has the upper hand. Such moments of hegemonic crisis and the beginning of the struggle for hegemony always carry with them the danger of new wars, arms races and escalations.

We are in the midst of such a crisis. It is systemic in the sense that it is not just a collection of regional conflicts in different parts of the world, which have become more numerous, but a manifestation of a large-scale redistribution of influence and power on a global scale. This redistribution will entail changes in the international order, because the rules of the game are linked to the balance of power.

If, at some point, the leaders of major states decide that it is worth taking the risk of war and paying the price, the systemic crisis will turn into a world war. But this, as the Spartans themselves said, is ‘if’.

Nickolay Kapitonenko is an associate professor at the Institute of International Relations at Taras Shevchenko National University of Kyiv and director of the Centre for International Relations Studies.

Source: International Politics and Society, Brussels

IPS UN Bureau

 

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Street scen of Herat province.

By External Source
HERAT, Afghanistan, Mar 18 2026 (IPS)

When Khadija Ahmadzada was arrested in Herat province of Afghanistan in January this year, it sparked widespread domestic and international protests. Women’s rights activists and social media users raised their voices with slogans such as “Sport is not a crime,” “Education is a right for women,” and “Don’t erase women,” often using the hashtag #BeHerVoice.

At the time of her arrest, the UN Special Rapporteur on human rights, Richard Bennett, had called for the immediate release of taekwondo coach Khadija Ahmadzada, expressing deep concern over her detention by the Taliban.

She has since been released but the outcry underlined the need for supporting Afghan women athletes, which activists around the world pointed out is a collective responsibility and warned that remaining silent in the face of oppression carries dangerous consequences.

Khadija Ahmadzada, 22, was an award-winning taekwondo athlete and coach of Afghanistan’s national youth team during the republic era. When the Taliban came to power, she tried to keep the sport alive for women and girls, creating opportunities for them to train, learn, and move forward at a time when those opportunities were steadily disappearing.

Herat was once a city where women’s sports clubs thrived. The women were highly motivated and recorded many achievements. The centers were not merely places for physical training; they also served as educational, social, and empowerment spaces for women and girls. Following the Taliban’s return to Afghanistan, all women’s sports facilities were shut down, and female athletes were categorically barred from continuing their activities.

Sports clubs have been closed to women since 2021, shortly after the Taliban returned to power, adding to a raft of measures put in place based on the Taliban’s strict interpretation of Islamic law. At the time, it was claimed they would reopen when a “safe environment” had been established. But as of January 2026, no sports club has reopened, and women are still barred from competition.

Known not only as a skilled athlete but also a determined and committed coach, Khadija Ahmadzada continued her work quietly under the Taliban’s strict restrictions, ensuring that women who wanted to train could still find a way. But her efforts did not remain hidden. In January 2026, she was arrested.

Her arrest highlights the intense pressure on active women in Afghanistan and reflects how they are forced to take forbidden paths to protect their basic rights and stay part of society.

Khadija Ahmadzada was trained in taekwondo professionally at the Jumong Taekwondo Academy in Herat under the guidance of Korean experts. Within a short time, she became a member of Afghanistan’s national youth team and won medals in domestic and regional competitions. She began teaching and training girls in taekwondo after ending her professional athletic career.

One of Khadija Ahmadzada’s students, who asked to remain anonymous for safety reasons said, “she is a skilled and devoted coach, and I am proud of her courage and selflessness”. When the Taliban’s morality police came to arrest Khadija, she assisted her students leave the club quietly while she stayed behind in defiance of the Taliban’s rules and was detained.

In the early days after Herat fell to the Taliban in August 2021, they began a gradual process of shutting down women and girls’ sports centers in stages. First the regime’s morality police issued verbal orders to operators of sports centers. The screws were tightened further in subsequent actions by confiscating equipment, locking up the gates of sports clubs and arrests of the owners and coaches.

Khadija’s two weeks in prison put tremendous pressure on her family. They repeatedly appealed to local representatives, community elders, and officials to help secure her release. Khadija was finally released after 13 days of imprisonment with a written pledge to not repeat the offense. Yet her freedom was less an end to suffering than a reminder of a life endured under Afghanistan’s Taliban.

Khadija established an underground taekwondo training program in the Jebraeil neighborhood of Herat, which has become a symbol of women’s resistance against the Taliban’s strict restrictions. She noted that before the Taliban came, many women were active in this field and earned a living through it. When the Taliban took over, sports halls were closed by their orders, women’s teams were disbanded, and female athletes and coaches either stayed at home or left the country. Among those who remained, women were forced to choose between complete silence or quiet resistance. Khadija was one of those who chose the latter.

IPS UN Bureau

 

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Excerpt:

The author is an Afghanistan-based female journalist, trained with Finnish support before the Taliban take-over. Her identity is withheld for security reasons.

This press kit includes a selection of European Parliament press releases outlining MEPs’ key priorities regarding the issues on the summit agenda.

Source : © European Union, 2026 - EP

L’aide internationale a été pensée, dans son architecture, pour répondre aux populations en détresse face aux crises, aux conflits et aux catastrophes naturelles. Elle s’est progressivement structurée autour de trois dimensions complémentaires : la réponse humanitaire d’urgence, le développement à long terme visant à garantir la stabilité et la cohésion sociale, et les enjeux de paix durable (sustaining peace). Au-delà de sa fonction opérationnelle, l’aide internationale constitue un prisme d’intelligibilité des crises mondiales. Elle permet une mise en perspective des responsabilités collectives et encourage la coopération transnationale, tant entre acteurs étatiques (politiques étrangères bilatérales, mécanismes multilatéraux, cadre de coordination humanitaire onusien (Bureau de la coordination des affaires humanitaires (OCHA), Fonds central d’intervention d’urgence (CERF)) qu’entre acteurs non étatiques (à travers le soutien à la société civile, les partenariats avec le secteur privé, mobilisation de réseaux académiques et d’expertise).

À mesure que les tensions internationales s’intensifient, l’aide au développement et l’action humanitaire sont progressivement détournées de leur vocation première et réinscrites dans des logiques sécuritaires et géostratégiques. Ce processus de « sécuritisation » dont le 11 septembre 2001 a marqué le tournant décisif, redéfinit en profondeur les conditions dans lesquelles l’aide est pensée, financée et déployée. Les États donateurs, au premier rang desquels les États-Unis et les pays européens, ont progressivement aligné leurs politiques d’aide sur leurs priorités en matière de lutte contre le terrorisme, de gestion des flux migratoires et de stabilisation des « États fragiles »…

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Depuis mars 2026, l’idée d’une hypothétique « République Populaire de Narva » à la frontière estonienne circule sur les réseaux russophones. Mèmes, drapeaux fictifs, blasons… tous les ingrédients sont là. Si ces provocations numériques ravivent les tensions entre la Russie et l’Estonie, cette mise en scène informationnelle pose une question : Narva pourrait-elle devenir un laboratoire de la guerre hybride menée par Moscou dans les États baltes ?

Narva, une frontière géopolitique sous tension

Depuis le début du mois de mars 2026, un narratif inhabituel circule dans l’espace numérique russophone. Sur Telegram, VK ou TikTok, plusieurs comptes évoquent l’apparition d’une prétendue « République Populaire de Narva », à l’instar des Républiques populaires de Donetsk et Lougansk à l’est de l’Ukraine. Drapeaux imaginaires, cartes stylisées, insignes pseudo-militaires et mèmes politiques composent l’iconographie d’un État fictif dont les contours rappellent immédiatement les entités séparatistes apparues dans l’espace post-soviétique depuis la fin de la guerre froide. À première vue, l’affaire pourrait prêter à sourire : quelques centaines d’abonnés, des visuels parfois ironiques et une esthétique volontairement provocatrice. Pourtant, ici, les fictions géopolitiques sont prises au sérieux à l’heure de la guerre d’Ukraine.

Narva n’est pas une ville comme les autres. Située à l’extrême est de l’Estonie, elle marque la frontière orientale de l’Union européenne et de l’Organisation du traité de l’Atlantique nord (OTAN). Son fleuve éponyme sépare la ville de la cité russe d’Ivangorod. Vestiges d’un passé impérial devenu aujourd’hui une ligne de fracture stratégique, deux forteresses médiévales se font face de part et d’autre de la rivière. Depuis l’invasion de l’Ukraine en 2022, ce paysage frontalier s’est chargé d’une signification nouvelle. Narva est devenue l’un des points d’observation privilégiés des tensions entre la Russie et l’Occident. La ville compte environ 55 000 habitants et possède une particularité démographique majeure : sa population est massivement russophone. Selon les données du recensement estonien de 2021, à peine 2 % des habitants déclarent l’estonien comme langue maternelle. Héritage direct de l’époque soviétique, Narva constituait en effet un centre industriel attirant une main-d’œuvre venue de différentes républiques de l’URSS. Depuis l’indépendance de l’Estonie en 1991, la question de l’intégration politique et linguistique de cette population russophone demeure un sujet sensible. Moscou n’a jamais hésité à mobiliser la rhétorique de la protection de ses « compatriotes de l’étranger » couplée à celle de son « étranger proche » pour dénoncer ce qu’elle présente comme une marginalisation des russophones dans les États baltes et justifier son influence sur l’espace post-soviétique, une argumentation déjà utilisée en Géorgie ou en Ukraine. Dans ce contexte, Narva apparaît régulièrement dans les scénarios stratégiques occidentaux comme un point de vulnérabilité potentiel dans la confrontation entre la Russie et l’OTAN.

La fabrique numérique d’une « république populaire »

C’est dans ce paysage qu’est apparu le narratif de la « République Populaire de Narva ». Les contenus diffusés depuis mars 2026 reprennent de manière presque méthodique l’imagerie des entités séparatistes du Donbass apparues en 2014. On y retrouve un drapeau vert, noir et blanc – parfois inversé selon les versions –, un blason et des insignes militaires imaginaires. Certaines cartes présentent la ville de Narva ou la région d’Ida-Viru comme un territoire distinct du reste de l’Estonie, tandis que d’autres visuels insinuent l’abandon de la ville par ses alliés occidentaux. L’un des messages diffusés affirme par exemple que « NATO will not come ». L’objectif ? Semer le doute sur le fait que l’Alliance atlantique viendrait défendre la région en cas de crise.

La diffusion de ces contenus s’effectue principalement sur Telegram avant d’être relayée sur VK et TikTok. Certains comptes encouragent la distribution de tracts ou proposent un contact anonyme via des bots Telegram. Un canal intitulé « Нарвская Народная Республика » revendique même explicitement la dimension provocatrice de l’initiative, affirmant vouloir « épater » et attirer l’attention médiatique. L’analogie avec les « républiques populaires » du Donbass est assumée comme un ressort narratif central. Pour les autorités estoniennes, le phénomène reste néanmoins limité. Le Estonian Internal Security Service (KAPO) considère qu’il s’agit avant tout d’une opération informationnelle simple et peu coûteuse destinée à provoquer et à tester les réactions de la société estonienne. Les premières observations semblent confirmer cette lecture : l’audience des comptes impliqués reste relativement faible, les contenus reposent largement sur des codes mémétiques et humoristiques et aucun signe d’organisation locale structurée n’a été identifié. A ce stade, le phénomène relève davantage d’un test de résonance informationnelle que de l’émergence d’un véritable mouvement séparatiste. En d’autres termes, il s’agit moins de créer une nouvelle entité politique que d’observer la capacité d’un narratif à circuler, à polariser et à provoquer.

Narva, un laboratoire de la guerre hybride

Même marginal, ce type de narratif peut toutefois remplir plusieurs fonctions stratégiques. Il peut servir de sonde politique, permettant de mesurer la réaction des autorités, des médias et de l’opinion publique face à un scénario fictif de sécession. Il peut également contribuer à polariser le débat interne autour des politiques linguistiques et de la place de la minorité russophone. Enfin, il peut alimenter un récit plus large sur la prétendue discrimination des russophones dans les États baltes, un thème régulièrement mobilisé par Moscou dans sa communication stratégique. Dans les scénarios prospectifs de guerre hybride, Narva apparaît d’ailleurs comme un cas d’école. Une ville russophone située à la frontière russe et au cœur d’un État membre de l’OTAN constitue un terrain idéal pour tester des stratégies de déstabilisation ambiguë. Un incident local, qu’il s’agisse de manifestations, d’actes de sabotage ou de la présence de forces non identifiées, pourrait créer une situation dans laquelle la confusion informationnelle précéderait l’escalade politique.

Pour déterminer si ce narratif reste un simple phénomène numérique ou s’inscrit dans une dynamique plus large, plusieurs signaux méritent d’être surveillés avec attention : le passage de la grammaire visuelle numérique à des consignes opérationnelles concrètes, l’amplification du narratif par des relais pro-Kremlin à forte audience, l’apparition de structures locales identifiables ou encore une synchronisation avec les discours officiels russes sur la protection des russophones. Pour l’instant, aucun de ces indicateurs n’est véritablement observable. Dès lors, l’hypothèse la plus probable reste celle d’une provocation informationnelle opportuniste et bon marché, tandis que l’idée d’une campagne d’influence plus coordonnée demeure plausible mais moins probable et que l’hypothèse d’un pré-signal d’action physique reste marginale. Autrement dit, la « République populaire de Narva » semble relever pour l’instant davantage de la guerre cognitive que d’une préparation insurrectionnelle.

Mais dans les stratégies contemporaines de confrontation hybride, la bataille se joue souvent bien avant toute confrontation militaire. Elle se joue dans l’espace informationnel. Au-delà de Narva elle-même, l’enjeu est donc systémique. Une crise fabriquée et volontairement ambiguë pourrait viser non pas à conquérir un territoire mais à tester la cohésion et la crédibilité de l’Alliance atlantique, ralentir la prise de décision collective, compliquer l’attribution des responsabilités et semer le doute dans l’opinion publique. Dans cette perspective, la « République populaire de Narva » ressemble pour l’instant à une provocation numérique limitée. Mais dans l’espace post-soviétique, les provocations ne sont jamais totalement innocentes. La question n’est peut-être pas de savoir si Narva deviendra une nouvelle « république populaire ». La véritable interrogation est plus large : jusqu’où la Russie est-elle prête à tester les lignes rouges de l’OTAN dans les États baltes ?

L’article La « République populaire de Narva » : l’Estonie dans le viseur de la Russie ? est apparu en premier sur IRIS.

MEPs agree on proposals to simplify artificial intelligence rules and propose bans on AI “nudifier” systems and clear application dates for high-risk system requirements.
Committee on the Internal Market and Consumer Protection
Committee on Civil Liberties, Justice and Home Affairs

Source : © European Union, 2026 - EP

Better connectivity to emerging destinations, targeted support for electric vehicle leasing, and seamless transport ticketing could contribute to sustainable EU tourism, MEPs say.
Committee on Transport and Tourism

Source : © European Union, 2026 - EP

DRAFT REPORT on the proposal for a regulation of the European Parliament and of the Council on establishing a framework of measures to facilitate the transport of military equipment, goods and personnel across the Union
Committee on Security and Defence
Committee on Transport and Tourism
Michał Szczerba, Roberts Zīle

Source : © European Union, 2026 - EP

MISSION REPORT following the mission to Montenegro and Albania from 16 to 18 February 2026
Committee on Foreign Affairs

Source : © European Union, 2026 - EP

MISSION REPORT following the mission to Montenegro and Albania from 16 to 18 February 2026
Committee on Foreign Affairs

Source : © European Union, 2026 - EP

In Iran, the influential secretary of the Supreme National Security Council Ali Larijani has been killed in an airstrike. The fate of the supreme leader also remains unclear: Mojtaba Khamenei has not been seen since the death of his father, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei. The media ask whether the Iranian regime can survive if its leadership continues to be eliminated by Israeli and US attacks.